


Milkshakes & Penguin Suits

by TheLocket



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling, Cute, Feels, Gay, M/M, Memories, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLocket/pseuds/TheLocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the latest Stark party, Steve and Bucky share a milkshake — and spend the evening together.</p><p>(Cap 2 spoilers, one-shot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milkshakes & Penguin Suits

Bucky is fiddling with the tie around his neck when he sees movement in the mirror. When he recognizes who it is, he can't help but swear.

"Fuck, Rogers, that's just not fair."

At his rough outburst, Steve looks down.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He sounds genuinely upset, looks geniunely upset. Steve, who wears his heart on his sleeve, is always so concerned, worried about Bucky.

"That," Bucky growls, gesturing with his hand at Steve's military uniform.

"Oh, this?" Steve asks, his face breaking into a smile. "Miss Potts said that the board members are quite nostalgic."

He shifts the shoulders of the army green jacket, the gold tie, his badges and pins. He looks nervous; a hand goes to flatten his hair.

"You look hot," Bucky barks out. He considers his tuxedo. "And I look like... a penguin."

"But a very cute penguin," Steve promises, that teasing look back in his eyes.

"Yeah," Bucky replies, the sarcasm in his voice thicker than ever. "I'm the penguin all the dames want to fuck."

Steve laughs, looking down at the ground as if to hide his grin.

"We do have your uniform, with all your purple heart and everything..."

Bucky waves this away.

"Nah, I'm good with the fuckable penguin look," he says. He's been making up different excuses, but he still doesn't feel ready to put on the old clothing — his old clothing. It doesn't feel like his. He's still getting used to being called Bucky.

Even thinking it, though, is too much. The panic starts to build in his gut — his hand is already trembling.

"Hey," Steve says quietly. He reaches out and grips Bucky's face in his hands, then wraps him in a bear hug.

"See, the penguin suit is already working its magic," Bucky grumbles into Steve's massive shoulder.

Steve laughs a bit and holds Bucky tighter, waiting for his trembling to subside. After a minute, his breathing is calm. He feels more like himself. Steve releases him, straightens his uniform.

"Well..." Steve says. He sighs. "Ready?"

"Lead the way, Captain," Bucky finds himself saying, offering a sardonic salute. "One last question."

He's stalling and they both know it, but Steve plays along.

"Sure?"

"If I forget how to make small talk... any chance I can just kill them?"

"Not funny, Buck, not funny."

"C'mon, I'm hilarious. And adorable."

***

They're hardly at the party for fifteen minutes when Steve is called away — Captain America is always popular at these schmoozing events, and he's being led all the way around the Stark Towers balcony, under the tent, by the pool.

It only takes another five minutes for Bucky to feel it. That uncoiling in the base of his stomach, the way air starts to feel too hollow, like it can't get traction on the back of his throat.

He's heading to the bar for something — anything, really, to dull the anxiety building in his stomach — when a hand grabs at his elbow.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Steve asks lightly, flashing Bucky one of his winning smiles. Probably on a high from kissing babies and signing autographs, Bucky figures, and it makes him feel almost jealous. Like that could have been his. A weird impulse, one he tries to crush.

"Bar," Bucky growls back, trying not to let his voice betray just how trapped he's feeling, how alone, how stuck.

"Buck..."

"What, are you going to try to stop me?" It sounds like a threat the second he says it, his voice too loud for the party. A few people look over.

"C'mon, dance with me," Steve says with a smile, holding out his hand. His voice is still light but his eyes are careful.

Bucky snorts.

"Not here," he growls. Being close to Steve: he knows it will calm him. But not in front of all these people.

"C'mon, just one dance," Steve pushes.

Bucky sighs, grumbling to himself, but takes Steve's hand.

"I feel like an idiot," he mutters as Steve takes him, like he's the girl, into his arms. One hand on his waist, one grasping his free hand.

"And you certainly look like one," Steve replies. He manages to keep his face earnest for a minute before breaking into another grin.

"You're a jerk," Bucky mutters, leaning into Steve's shoulder.

"Punk," Steve replies, tucking Bucky's head under his chin.

They're spinning on the dance floor, easy steps.

"You're a god-awful dancer, Rogers," Bucky grumbles.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I'm the one who keeps stepping on his partner's feet," Steve says pointedly. And he winces theatrically.

"Oh, does that hurt?" Bucky retorts. "I thought you were a supersoldier, like you had a higher pain tolerance or something."

"Yeah, well aren't master assassins supposed to be graceful?" Steve replies, matching him.

Bucky laughs quietly, moving so he can look up into Steve's face. He's laughing, too.

As the song ends, he feels Steve's hand on his shoulder, gripping him there.

"Better, Barnes?"

"Yeah, now that I'm free of your terrible dancing."

Steve laughs, but his expression sobers as he hears someone callng him.

"I gotta go, Buck... but, if you need me..."

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky replies. "Give me some space, will ya? Gotta use this penguin suit to score some skirts."

Steve leaves, shaking his head.

***

At the end of the night, Steve finds Bucky by the bar, nursing a milkshake.

"I hope that isn't spiked," he says, warningly.

"Nope," Bucky promises. "Just as virgin as you are."

"Hey," Steve says, acting all offended.

Bucky laughs to himself.

"What about you? Penguin suit didn't work out?"

Bucky has to think for a minute to remember he was supposed to be picking up _girls_. Right.

"Nah," he says, sipping on his shake. It makes a rude sucking noise and he grins. "Just me and you at the end of the night. Like always."

"Like always," Steve echoes. "Hey, mind if I have a taste?"

"Still don't trust me?"

"I think I'm actually calcium deficient, y'know, gotta get some good American milk in me..."

He leans over and takes the straw in his lips. Bucky watches him, watches him in a way that should be inappropriate for public. But he doesn't care.

"That's good," Steve says, and he sounds surprised. "Tastes like—"

"Like that diner down Broadway."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve enthuses. "Like, just like it."

"Yeah." Bucky nods.

To his surprise, Steve flushes.

"What is it?" Bucky asks.

"Nothing."

"No really, Steve, stop being a jackass. Just tell me."

Steve hesitates, swirling the straw in the milkshake.

"How much do you remember about that diner?" he asks.

Bucky shrugs.

"We went there a lot, didn't we?" he replies.

"Yeah," Steve replies.

He stares off back towards the party, which is winding down. The band is playing half-heartedly and a few couples and slow-dancing in the center of the dance floor, Tony with his arms around Pepper. Sam gives Steve a large thumbs up and points down at the woman he's managed to ensnare for the evening. And Clint and Natasha think they're being all sneaky, cuddling in the shadows.

"Rogers," Bucky growls, surprised that Steve colors even deeper. "Spit it out. Or I'm gonna think it's something way worse than it is."

Still Steve says nothing.

"Did I do something stupid? Rip my pants? Shit my pants?" Bucky presses, reaching to steal back the milkshake. Steve pulls it away, still not meeting his eyes.

"No, nothing like that," Steve promises.

"Steve."

Finally, Steve sighs.

"You sort of... well I sort of... well... we kissed?" It comes out like a question and he can't stop tripping over his words. "Well I asked you how to kiss and you sort of said it was hard to explain so I... I said I was nervous about doing it wrong, so you said you'd teach me. For kissing girls."

Steve huffs out air and meets Bucky eyes, his cheeks still pink, his eyes tentative.

"But... I didn't really want to kiss girls," he admits, and as he does to he bites his lower lip and his eyes dart down Bucky's face.

Bucky doesn't know what his face looks like, but he hopes he's keeping that mask of his in place.

"So..." Steve says with a little laugh. He takes another sip of the milkshake.

"Stop it," Bucky says, and his voice sounds too serious, he knows that by the way Steve looks up, worried. "You're gonna finish the shake. I want more."

"We can get another one," Steve says, looking thoroughly ashamed.

"Don't you dare," Bucky says again, egging him on. He leans in closer, trying to get the shake back. He knows what Steve will do, so he's not surprised when Steve reaches for the cup, removes the straw, and upends it, chugging the rest.

When he thunks the empty glass onto the bar, he has whipped cream on his nose and chocolate frothy milkshake all around his mouth.

"You idiot," Bucky says, and his voice isn't nearly as coarse as he'd like it to be. He leans in, reaching for the whipped cream on Steve's nose with his thumb, but then thinks better of it.

Steve is frozen, unsure of what's happening, when Bucky leans in and licks the whipped cream off his friend's nose with his tongue.

"You finished it," Bucky accuses.

"I did," Steve says, and his eyes are bright. The blood is back in his cheeks.

"I wanted more," Bucky says. "Just one more sip... Just one more taste..."

He leans in slowly and drags his tongue across Steve's lips slowly.

"Just one more..." he repeats, and then leans in with his lips, pressing them to Steve's full lips. The milkshake tasted good, but Steve tastes ridiculous. Lips aren't enough; he's reaching forward with arms, too, to press Steve's face to his, and he's almost hungry against Steve's mouth, his lips and tongue searching for more Steve. It's not enough, the kiss.

When he pulls back, he's breathing hard, and Steve is too.

"Wha—" Steve mutters.

Bucky finds himself grinning, a self-satisfied smirk.

"Yeah, it's coming back to me," he says, and he perversely licks his lips. Steve's eyes follow his tongue.

"Buck..." he tries.

"Shut up, asshole," he says. "Now unless you'd like to do this in public and traumatize all the little rugrats in attendance... I'm recommending we take this back to my room."

***

They almost don't make it to the room; in the elevator, Bucky is pressed up against him, hot and heavy and like teenagers, and he knows that Steve is aware of his urgency, in the rough press against his body.

"C'mon Steve," he growls in his ear, and reaches down his hand to grab at Steve's erection through his trousers.

"God, Buck," he whimpers back. "They have cameras in these things."

"What, don't want Stark getting a free show?"

Steve groans back, and Bucky is back at his lips, hungrily kissing him.

"You're a dick," Steve complains.

"Nice choice of words," Bucky retorts.

Steve's hands are making a slow progress down from Bucky's shoulders, but he doesn't seem sure of what do to with them.

"Grab my ass already, Rogers," Bucky says. "Fuck, c'mon. It's amazing, I promise."

This time it's more of a moan that escapes Steve's mouth. And he complies. Bucky's hand against his pants registers the effect and it's not enough, grabbing at him through the fabric, so he reaches under the belt, digging through under his boxer shorts, frantically gripping...

"Excuse me," comes JARVIS's polite voice. "But I'm afraid that Miss Lewis is calling the elevator and..."

They break apart and realize that the doors are open. For how long, they have no idea.

"Fuck off," Bucky retorts.

"Bucky," Steve complains. "He's right, we should..."

"Make me," Bucky snaps.

He should not have said that, he realizes, but it's almost another turn-on when Steve catapults him out of the elevator, throwing him bodily into the far wall.

"Damn, Rogers," he growls. He's dizzy at the idea of what it would feel like to have Steve using that strength in the bedroom...

Steve walks out slowly, and his hands go to the front of his pants to unbuckle and unzipper and free himself from his trousers.

They haven't even made it to the door and Steve Rogers is wearing nothing but his military jacket, his tie, his shirt... and his boxers.

Bucky doesn't want to look away, worried he won't have enough time to appreciate what he's about to receive.

"Get the door opened," Steve orders.

"Yes, Captain," Bucky replies with another evil grin, and he sees as Steve shudders at this, sees the way his hips instinctively buck at the idea.

"Oh, you like that?" he continues. "Well, in that case, yes _sir_."

They almost don't make it to the bedroom.

***

The next morning, Bucky still can't believe what's happened. It comes back in a rush of memories, the last evening, and he can't stop replaying them.

Steve's asleep next to him, and dammit if he doesn't look just like an angel, his full lips still flushed pink, his long eyelashes... he's beautiful in a weirdly erotic way. It makes Bucky hard just looking at his face, which is ridiculous.

He wakes him with a kiss — he doesn't want to wake him, but he can't _not_ kiss that face — and his lips don't stop there, moving down his chin, tracing along that ridiculously strong chin of his, down his neck.

He slowly strips off his undershirt. For some reason, they didn't get to that last night. They were hurried last night, but now they don't have to be.

"Buck..." Steve says sleepily, and his fingers twine in Bucky's hair, encouraging him.

Bucky presses kisses along his collarbone, nose tracing along his ridiculous muscles, when his lips encounter rough skin. A scar. A patches of scars.

He pulls back, and his finger trace over the area like a blind man, trying to make sense of what he's feeling.

"I thought you didn't scar," he murmurs.

"Not permanently," Steve promises, brushing Bucky's hair off his face, fingers curling under his chin.

"Where did you..." Bucky starts to ask. But then he remembers. He remembers the gun in his hand. The whirring of the Helicarrier.

"I did this," he realizes. As he says it, he knows it's true and it's not true, like everything. The Winter Soldier did this. His fingers trace the edges of the scars.

"It wasn't you," Steve replies.

"But I remember it..."

He closes his eyes for a moment and he can hear the gunshots, feel them reverberating through his body, the kickback of his firearm. He can see Steve like he's in the crosshairs, sees him doubled over...

Steve presses a kiss to Bucky's shoulder.

"I hurt you too," he says, and his voice is husky.

And he sees those blue eyes, those cheekbones, and remembers how they felt under his fist, how it felt to hit him, again and again, until he drew blood.

So Bucky kisses him, aggressively, forcefully, hungrily. It feels like if he kisses him enough, he can undo what he did.

"Buck," Steve gasps out. "Buck..."

But Bucky's possessed, he can't stop. His lips move down, down Steve's neck and his chest, along the constellation of scars, down his belly.

At this point, Steve's figured out what he's doing, and he pulls himself away, pressing himself back against the headboard of the bed.

"Bucky, stop it," he says, and his voice is serious.

"But..." Bucky doesn't know what he's saying, and he feels strange, like he's leaking. He presses his hands to his face and realize it's damp, that's he's weeping, crying, earnestly sobbing. What does he want to say? That it will make it better? That he owes him pleasure to make up for his pain? That...?

He wipes at his face impatiently. The doctors warned him that memories had side effects, that the cognitive recalibration process leads to erratic behavior, unexplained emotions... but that's not what he feels like.

"I'm a monster," he realizes, and he's kneeling on the bed, naked, broken. His metal arm at his side twitches, like it does whenever he has a wave of emotion too strong for it to process. It's making little mechanical noises, and it just proves what he already knows.

His eyes are closed, so he's surprised to feel gentle lips on his, a hand twining in his hair, pressing him closer.

When the kiss ends, he opens his eyes hesitantly.

"You're Bucky Barnes," Steve says. "You're my best friend, and..."

He trails off.

"What?" Bucky prompts him.

"You're the man that took my virginity," Steve adds, going pink along his cheeks again.

"Huh," Bucky realizes, and he chuckles through his tears. "Does this mean I get my own holiday?"

"What makes you think that?" Steve asks, pulling him back to the bed, back into his arms. He lays his head on Steve's chest where he can listen to his heart beat, listen to the ocean-like noise of his breath in his chest. Steve's still alive. That's comforting, the most comforting thing he can imagine.

"Like Columbus, or something. The first man to plant a flag in America."

Steve laughs, and with his head on Steve's chest, Bucky's sure it's the most beautiful noise he's ever heard.

"I'll ask President Ellis," Steve promises. "See what I can do."


End file.
